


I know you feel it in your bones

by A_Hippo_Named_Saelym (Kairacahra1869)



Series: Fool Series (Reverse Tin Soldier AU) [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Crossdressing, Delusions, Fool Series, M/M, Marionette!Connor, Reverse Tin Soldier AU, Unreliable Narrator, animatronic!Josh, animatronic!Lucy, animatronic!Markus, animatronic!north, hotel owner!rose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-17 10:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18963319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairacahra1869/pseuds/A_Hippo_Named_Saelym
Summary: Connor can't believe just how fortunate he is to have met Markus, the sweetest most wonderful man. And to be able to date him? Ah, if only work didn't get in the way. Maybe during their performance, he can snag his lover's attention.





	I know you feel it in your bones

The fabric is soft. Makes Connor feel… cute. No, that isn’t a feeling, is it? More like… a description of his appearance. Sat in front of the mirror, done up in frills, a dress, and a wig full of ringlets and kept mostly tamed by a headscarf, Connor contemplates how it is he feels. Perhaps giddy is an apt term. In a few moments he’ll be on the stage again, performing, officially, for a gathering of rather sophisticated people, but, personally, Connor plans to perform something for his beau. The man doesn’t say much, but when he does grace them with words, its always deep and meaningful and it sends Connor onto a trip to cloud nine every single time. Connor would feel embarrassed that he would be won over so easily, by such cookie-cutter sweet lines, but his man had a way with words and saying exactly what he needed to hear at times.

Connor counted down the moments until they were due on stage. They were kept separate, the musician and the dancer, but the distance and separation made their reunions more delectable. Once more, Connor stared into the mirror, his head swaying left and right, to watch the curls and ringlets bounce and spring around his face. His dress was smoothed down and a scuff on his left tap shoe was buffed out just as the door opened to announce it was time to perform. With a grin to himself, Connor kept his face smoothed as he followed his manager. She was lovely and ran the establishment with an iron fist and honeyed words, but she had a rather annoying habit of insisting he put on a different act each performance. Sometimes she required he play a handsome lady killer, sometimes an innocent youth, many times he’s really needed to stretch his capabilities to play the role of more... risqué characters. His skirt might be short, but the petticoat beneath it allows for some decency and Connor decides that this character he has to play this week might become one of his better ones. He’s gone over the choreography countless times and has it engrained in his memory. Mostly, he’s just excited to see his lover, sure that he’ll go red in the face when certain parts of the routine come up. He’s sure his manager won’t mind him brushing up just a little bit closer to her star keyboard player, especially if he times it right with the key changes in the song.

And then he’s walking up onto the stage, eyes quickly adjusting from the dim lights behind the curtains to the spotlights lighting up the stage. His man isn’t there yet, but Connor finds himself gliding across the stage anyway. Might as well peruse the crowd and gauge their temperaments. They’re as stuffy as he would expect, with their finely pressed suits, and heavily decorated necks and wrists, but judging the tables they sit, and the scattered bottles of wine and rum being switched out for new ones, it has reached that point in the night where they’re loosening up. This means this could either go great for them, with an added encore, or a shortened version of the song in case things go south and they need to get off the stage quickly. Connor lets his instincts take over and does a few practise taps of his feet before swinging around the stage, arms and hips bobbing to an imaginary harmony as his feet walk him to a simple 3/4 beat.

He startles out of his warm-up as the music becomes real and matches to his tempo. He halts for a bit, excited to see the band members are set up on the stage, but disappointed that he missed their entrance. However, all goes fuzzy as he focuses on the man that takes up his heart. What drew Connor to him initially is what pulls him in now, his eyes, one a soft summer green and the other a refreshing ocean blue. Both clear as day and contrasted wonderfully with his dark complexion. Damn, was he ever in love? He’s so focused on his eyes that he almost misses his words. The music still plays, but Connor feels as if the world became silent around them as his lover murmured a question.

“Will you dance for me?” Followed up by an emphasis on his next chords. Connor almost melted on the spot. It’s become a sort of ritual for them, although his lover has done this before long before they met. But now, with the atmosphere as charged as it is between them, Connor can only imagine that those words are aimed at him, specifically.

So, Connor answers him with a soft sway of his hips, timing each crest and dip with the turn of his body, till he was facing the crowd again. The music stopped, as did his movements, as his manager and several other people stepped forward with a bow. They were introduced as the stage crew, and Connor was glad for the applause they garnered. He wouldn’t have a performance without the stage crew working hard behind-the-scenes. It’s one of the things he rather enjoys about his current manager, she made sure everyone was accounted for and thanked. When the applause died down, and they stepped back, Connor prepared himself as the spotlight swept around the stage introducing each of the band.

“Thank you all for booking tonight’s performance! Here at Chapman’s Hotel, we’re pleased to announce that today marks our 100th anniversary of being in business as well as-” Rose Chapman gets cut off as the crowd applauses. She’s all genuine smiles and laughter as she waves the crowd in thanks and to silence them. “Yes thank you, my great-grandfather is surely looking down from Heaven in pride. A century ago, he and his friend, Elzbieta Kamska, fought the mayor for the deed to this place, arguing that the disparity among the homeless did not account for the large populations of the blacks and women.” Disgruntled and somewhat discomforted murmurs spread, but Rose powered on. “Together, after years of advocating and gathering support, they finally managed to get Elzbieta’s husband, Jan Kamski, to sign the building a surrounding land under his name. However, Jan quickly, and legally transferred ownership to his best friend and his wife and, this place became a refuge for anyone who needed a place to stay briefly.” Rose looked around, the place much grander than the pictures she has posted everywhere of the original building. However, despite her current audience, she’s pleased that the place has retained its rustic decor despite the remodelling and additions.

Glancing at her performers, she let out a self-deprecating sigh, before addressing the crowd again. “But enough of that history! It’s been a hundred years and this place is more than just a hovel for runaways or the unemployed! Instead, several of those who had come here seeking shelter, found a permanent place among its staff decades later. Among those, recently The Kamski’s great-great-grandson has returned with his wonderfully crafted machines.” She gestures grandly to Jericho, the animatronics behind her, as the lights swing to them. They highlight each member as Rose earnestly gives them short introductions. “On the drums is the petite, but fiery and outspoken North!”

On cue, “North” scoffs. “I wonder if your head will make a good drum!” It taps out a rather aggressive rhythm, before straightening back into her default state.

The crowd starts at her voice, before applauding at its authenticity.

The light hovers over the guitarist next who, a half-second after the light already landed on it, shakes its head a seems to “reply” to North. “Use that energy on your drums, instead of your threats.” Since the light illuminates him, the crowd doesn’t quite see the drummer’s reaction, but they do see an arm jut up suddenly with a drumstick waving threateningly, and the guitarist jerking to hold its guitar in front of itself in defence get a chuckle out them.

Rose joins them, though her chuckle comes out slightly more forced and hopes her clients don’t hear it. “Thank you, Josh, for your attempt to reign her in, but I prefer you have full usage of your limbs for tonight’s performance.”

Josh nods, his movements slightly stuttered, and though his mouth opens, she doesn’t hear his apology. Thankfully, the crowd doesn’t seem to mind, but Rose makes a mental note to have its motors checked out.

She gestures the light to move on and it lands on the other dark male. “Markus! Be a sweetheart and give us something to lighten up the mood!”

Fortunately, it seems to be functioning smoothly, cause it gives a soft hum. “Perhaps with the art of music, we can overcome this chaotic energy.”

Not precisely as smooth as far as conversational replies go, but it is coded as the “mysterious” one, and Rose honestly hasn’t had time to have Elijah program more interaction-based dialogue with it.

Finally, the last musical member is highlighted, and it steps forward, sheer dress wrapped tight around it and carefully dreaded hair braided down her back. As per its instructions, it doesn’t reply to any of its “team”, rather the light focuses on it and its soft voice comes out clearly, enhanced by the attached microphone. “Thank you all for coming to see us! I hope our song moves you all!” It calmly steps back and “tunes” its base.

“Thank you, Lucy, for the normal response! This,” Rose gestures to them all, the lights once again illuminating the band. “Is Jericho! They’ve been with the company for almost 10 years! However, we have a rather new member of the team, though  _ he _ won’t be singing or playing an instrument!”

And then the spotlight is on Connor and Connor finds himself looking around at the shocked faces. He doesn’t quite understand why they look so stricken, and he doesn’t hear what his manager has to say about him, not that he was listening to her much before his introduction. They’ve done this so many times, Connor finds it dull and much prefer to let his mind wander. For example, Markus, his love, was wearing a rather form-fitting vest, over a rolled-up poet’s shirt, and boat hat and the semi-casual look was doing things to Connor’s imagination.

But now it was Connor’s turn to be introduced. His manager said it herself. He wasn’t there for the music, so he allowed his body to take him across the stage to her, sashaying to the centre of the stage and gently hip checking her out of the spotlight, before dipping in a deep bow, not at all lady-like as his attire might suggest. That got the crowd to gain a burst of energy, some of the more inebriated gentlemen scooting forward to peer at his spread stance and their wives tutting at his forwardness.

Connor’s face doesn’t change, but he hopes his man got an eyeful just then. He even added a slight knee bounce to aide in accentuating his back. They’re going to be on stage for a while, but it would serve him right, dressing as he did, biceps stretching the thin fabric, and looking like a feast.

Eventually, his manager got off the stage and then the music started to play. The instruments were aided by some sort of speaker-system, so it was easy enough for the crowd to catch onto the rhythm and sway to the beat. The song was purposefully done in a way that it would sound slow and open, but Connor’s movements were fast and remained rather constricted. The times it would speed up, Connor would tap sensually across the stage, feigning ignorance of the effect he was having, just as he was supposed to. He wishes he could make eye contact with his beau, but his body was going through the motions too well, and Connor found that it was best to just allow it to take him where he was needed. Instead, he got to hear the slurred words of his audience. Most were the usual awe of his prowess. Some were a little lewder or disparaging, which Connor expected seeing as, out of everyone in the room, he was showing the most skin and humans tended to have a weird obsession with that.

All-in-all the hours went by very smoothly. They did end up with an encore, three actually. Two for the band and another one for him, though they hadn’t planned for more than two. So, Connor ended up improvising to some tavern song the audience drunkenly sang, which was in and of itself amusing to witness. All these posh accents attempting to slur over a tavern song. Their diction was too clear, despite all the alcohol imbibed, so it sounded more like a group of children who discovered curse words, emphasising and stressing them too much so that it sounded rather unnatural and just absurd. Still, the song they chose was well known, so North was able to pick up on the actual tempo quickly enough and she kept it up, embellishing here and there when the lyrics grew too mumbled to be heard. It lasted much longer than it should’ve, and Connor has drunken memory, or lack thereof, to blame for that. Many times, the “best part” was repeated as the crowd would lose track of the song and just go back to what they could remember. Still, his manager seemed more than pleased when it finally ended, and, after a final bow- a proper one this time- the curtains closed, and they were led off the stage.

Connor found himself leaned up against a wall in front of Markus, and he sighed inside, absolutely melting at the sight. His eyes were dull, but that’s to be expected after the rather late and long performance. The other members were in a similar state of fog, but Connor was used to this. Connor knows he’s eventually going to have to go back to his room- seriously, damn that separation rule- but he can imagine what Markus would say to him now.

Probably something along the lines of “ _ You’re beautiful the way you are! _ ” said with so much enthusiasm that Connor would be unable to do anything but fall more for him.

Connor is still attached to the ceiling contraption, it follows him everywhere, but for once it isn’t drawn taut. So, Connor stares at his left hand and focuses hard on it. Eventually, it budges, just a bit, but enough to encourage him to keep focusing. He focuses so hard on moving it forward, that he doesn’t even hear the telltale sound of something unwinding rapidly above him and next thing he knows he’s on the floor in front of Markus. Connor doesn’t even have a chance to be embarrassed as he stumbles so hard into Markus, that he topples on top of him. The man doesn’t even try to catch his fall, and Connor thanks Amanda for creating him to be so durable. Otherwise, he might’ve been squished under Markus weight.

And then Connor realises. He’s touching Markus. Or, rather, Markus is touching him. Markus’ thighs are framing his head, his wig slightly pulled off under their weight, and Markus' face is...

If Connor could go red, he would. If he could squeal, he’d probably do that too. Instead, he panics internally for a bit and thanks to whatever force for this opportunity.

Eventually, Markus gets up. “Well, that was very awkward... Is Connor okay?”

Connor feels himself gain movement in his limbs and hefts himself up. He casually replies. “It’s all right. No damage, at either ends.”

Markus’ smile grows brighter, in Connor’s eyes. “Oh, thank God! Wouldn’t know how we would be able to replace the dancer.”

They straighten back across from each other and that’s all they get to say before Connor is called back to his room. Connor sighs to himself but finds that this is a step in a better direction. He also would like some time to himself to replay that situation and any iteration of it in his mind over and over.


End file.
